“Do you see Isla?” Hand to her brow, Julia peered about on the tips of her toes. Warriors sat at trestle tables with steaming bowls of oats and fresh loaves of bread before them. They ate with gusto and much chatter and din. “Oh, there she is. At the front door.”
Isla, her hand resting within the bend of Iain’s elbow, walked outside with her mate, Kirk right behind them. Both Finlay’s brothers were dressed in black leather pants and dark tunics under padded cotuns, their claymores glinting at their sides. With the coming battle looming, all had to be prepared for the MacKenzie’s strike and they appeared ready for training.
“We’ll catch them up.” Julia grasped her hand and tugged her along after her.
Outside in the bailey, the warriors trained in their kilts, dust pluming at their feet and steel ringing loud as they struck each other. A tall burly warrior stomped to the center of the group in thick fur boots with a gong in hand. He called for the change and several warriors swapped out with men on the sidelines before the battling once again resumed.
Iain halted at the center well draped in ivy, kissed Isla’s cheek then strode with Kirk to the training area. The two warmed up, twirling their blades in a precise figure eight. Then they tapped their swords together and fought, swiftly and with immense strength.
“Isla!” Julia waved out and they both hurried across and joined her at the well.
“Good morning to you two.” Isla hugged Julia and her, a welcoming smile on her face.
“We have much to speak to you about.” In a flurry, Arabel recited all that happened between her and Finlay while Isla listened with wide eyes and a rising smile.
“That is the best news.” The wind lifted, fluttered Isla’s sapphire skirts and the white ribbon at the top of her cinched bodice. “What you’ve told me also explains why Iain sensed a great deal of contentment coming from Finlay last night, ecstatic contentment. Kirk got a blast of it too, and I sat quietly with hope in my heart that things might have changed for you both. It does sound as if the realignment of the elements occurred during the storm, and I love that it extinguished your fire. There’s hope, always hope to keep us strong.”
“Aye, but I left without waking Finlay this morn, and there willnae be a chance he’ll remember me, or our joining.”
“I agree, and unfortunately I can’t reverse what I’ve compelled. All his memories of his time with you are gone. I also can’t tamper with his thought processes and try to reinstall them, or else he’ll begin to believe he’s gone mad. There is a fine line to what I can and can’t do.” Isla’s gaze softened. “He’s your mate, Arabel, and I can never compel that truth from him, that is why, deep in his heart, he completed the bond with you the first moment he could. Doing so rages through our shifter men, their desire to tie their chosen one to them all that rides them. Did you successfully create the merged link of the mind?”
“We did, and if you are in agreement, I would like you to remove the compulsion from Finlay and his brothers, provided Finlay too desires it.”
“He might be angry at the lengths we took to keep you from him, but he’ll never turn you away. You’re not alone, and never will be. You have an entire clan, your sister and me, and the ‘power of three’ on your side. There is no limit to what we’ll be able do to help you find all the answers you seek.” She glanced toward the gates and raised a brow. “Oh, and it appears the time for some of those answers has now arrived.”
Fury lined Finlay’s brow as he marched toward his brothers, his wrinkled white tunic un-tucked and flapping over his tan rawhide pants, his brown leather vest slung over one shoulder. The stubble razzing his jaw was thick and dark, his black hair a wind-tossed mess and a mass of emotions swirling within the golden depths of his eyes. He tossed his vest to the ground and heaved his sword from its side scabbard, his rage evident as he slammed his blade into Iain’s.
She should never have denied her mate. The time for her reckoning had arrived.
So many intense and fierce emotions barreled through Finlay. He’d awoken in a cavern on a ledge overhanging a cool freshwater pool some miles from the castle, all alone and with only slivers of memory to mark the time. He’d been chasing a woman with long blond locks that swayed to her waist and vivid red skirts. She was nameless, faceless, yet everything about her called to him, on the deepest level. She was also the same unknown woman who’d haunted his dreams over the past few days. He ached, so deep in his soul he could barely breathe through the pain, and his heart, it felt as if it had been torn in two, as if he’d never be whole again.
“Whoa.” Iain backed up a step. “What’s going on?”
“I need help.” He swung again, striking Iain’s blade hard and fast a second time. “I can’t bear the weight of this loss thundering through me a moment more. I can’t find her.”